Game Day
by TessaStarDean
Summary: Flack takes Stella to a Yankees game. FlackStella fluff.


**A/N: This is what happens when I go to a Yankees/Red Sox game and A-Rod forgets how to play the game. Plus, I desperately needed something fluffy.**

A knock on her door caused Stella to look up from her paperwork, and she smiled when she saw Don Flack standing there.

"Hey," she said warmly. "You need something?"

He shrugged, walking towards her. "I was just...You doin' anything tonight?"

She thought for a moment. "No. Why?"

Flack sighed, not quite meeting her eyes. "Messer ditched me for the Yankees game tonight. Somethin' about work. So I was thinkin'...maybe you'd like to go."

Stella stared at him, her eyes wide. "Seriously?"

He shrugged again, looking uncomfortable. "I don't wanna go alone, and you're the only other person I could think of..."

"I was your second choice?"

"Pretty much, yeah."

Stella smiled. "I don't really know much about baseball," she admitted. When Don opened his mouth to reply, she held up a hand to stop him. "But I'd love to go."

Flack paused. "Really?"

Her smile broadened. "Really."

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"Wow," Stella murmured as they sat down. "These are really good seats, Don."

He shrugged. "My brother bought these for my birthday."

She let her eyes roam over the field. "So that's third base, right? And - oh my God."

Flack frowned. "What?"

"Is that...?"

He narrowed his eyes as he stared at the player standing closest to them. "Yeah, that's A-Rod."

"Oh," she whispered, appreciatively looking him up and down.

Flack turned to look at her, his frown deepening. "I thought you didn't know much about baseball?"

She gave him a withering look before returning her stare to Rodriguez. "I don't live under a rock, Don. I'm female. I know who A-Rod is."

He definitely didn't like the way she said his name. "Then I suppose that you know he ain't Mr. October then?"

Stella frowned. "Mr. What?"

"October."

"What does that even mean?"

"It means...He's not one to come through for us when we really need him. This season, he's only had one RBI in the eighth or ninth innings. One."

"So?"

"So...that's really bad, Stell. And he's one of the highest paid players. It's disgusting." He paused. "Jeter's a hell of a lot better."

She shook her head with an amused smile on her face. "So you're saying you'd rather I have the hots for Derek Jeter?"

Don shrugged uncomfortably. "He's at least a little more worthy."

"You're lookin' a little green there, Donnie."

That made him blush, and he forced himself to keep his eyes locked on the field. "Game's startin'," he muttered.

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Stella didn't stop smiling the entire game. Flack knew that he was paying more attention to her than to what was going on in the field, but he didn't care. Seeing her light up like that made him feel good, and he realized that he would do anything to make her that happy.

"You're shakin'," he said suddenly, seeing the way her shoulders were trembling.

She looked at him with bright eyes. "It's a little colder than I expected. Guess I should have worn more than a tank top."

She went back to watching the game, but Don couldn't take his eyes of her. Without even thinking about it, he unbuttoned his jersey and slid it off, draping it over her shoulders. Stella turned and looked at him in surprise, fingering the material.

"Don't want you catchin' cold," he murmured, smiling at her.

Stella beamed at him, sliding the jersey on completely and wrapping it around her body. "Thank you," she said quietly.

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They walked down the street side by side, moving slowly, their shoulders brushing up against the other as they went. When they had first left the game, there had been such a crush of bodies that they hadn't had any choice but to stay close - but now they couldn't seem to move apart, even though there was no one on the street with them. Finally, they reached her apartment, and Stella moved up onto the bottom step before turning to face him.

"I had a really great time, Don," she said sincerely. "Thank you."

He smiled at her. "It was my pleasure, Stell. I should be thankin' you for comin' along."

They stood like that for a few minutes, the silence between them an odd mixture of comfortable and uncomfortable. Knowing that one of them had to do something, Stella went to take off the jersey she was still wearing.

"I should give this back -"

Flack stopped her, one of his hands gripping the bottom edge of the shirt. "You can do that later," he said. Then he raised his eyes to meet hers again, a playful sparkle in them. "But you be good to that jersey, Bonasera. It's got Don Mattingly's number on it, and that makes it sacred."

She laughed. "Understood. Do you have others? Jerseys, I mean."

He nodded. "Bernie Williams, Wade Boggs, Paul O'Neil..."

Stella smirked. "No A-Rod?"

Flack's eyes went hard. "I wouldn't pay money for anything with that bum's number on it."

"I think you're jealous."

He snorted, but didn't meet her eyes. "Jealous? I ain't jealous, Stell. I just think you could do a hell of a lot better than some no-good -"

She moved closer, her face a breath away from his. "Don't worry, Don," she whispered. "You're much sexier than him."

His heart pounded. "Sexy -?"

And then her lips were on his. Don tightened his grip on the jersey, pulling her closer, letting her envelop all of his senses. Her hands came up to hold his face even as his drifted to her hips, and for a long time they were lost in one another.

"You free tomorrow?" he asked when they pulled back, his voice slightly breathless.

Stella smiled. "I am."

He nodded. "I was thinkin' maybe I could get my jersey back then."

She kissed him again. "Maybe I could cook us dinner. Pay you back for taking me out tonight."

His eyes lit up. "I'd like that."

One more kiss and she pulled back. "Good, it's a date then."

Without another word, she turned and walked up the stairs to her door.

"Hey Stell?"

She turned to look at him over her shoulder, still smiling. "Yeah?"

"You really think I'm sexy?"

She couldn't help the faint blush that rose up on her cheeks. "You have no idea, Don," she admitted.

He grinned as she turned and walked inside. And he couldn't help the spring in his step as he made his way home. Maybe A-Rod had some usefulness after all.


End file.
